The Work of ReBuilding
by PlantMurderer
Summary: The battle is won, but the castle lies wounded. Hogwarts's founders, drawn back to this plane by the school itself, work to fix the best of what they made. includes the story of how everything came together and fell apart. *founders in a foursome*
1. Prologue

Night fell on Hogwarts, a startling reminder that time continued even after everything that had come to pass in the weeks and months before. The triumphant but grieving heroes had retired to the common rooms following the battle that ended the reign of the Dark Lord Voldemort. The dead were resting on transfigured cots in classrooms, awaiting more permanent quarters.

The castle itself was wounded. Stones that had been placed centuries before lay in rubble. Rooms lay smoldering from fiendfyre. Floors were stained with dark magic, and blood. Still, some areas seemed untouched.

The gargoyle that guarded the passage to the headmaster's office was still in place, and no worse for the wear. Indeed, it seemed to have learned a new trick, evidenced by its choosing to stand and bow low, spreading its stone wings to honor the figure who stood before it wearing a long dark blue cloak. It was a woman, more shadow than form.

The gargoyle stepped aside and the wall behind it split open, and the woman moved onto the stairs which took her not up, to the headmasters' office, but down, to a chamber that no one had seen in over a hundred years. It was a large round room with four doors set into the walls. Apart from the circle where the stairs moved down through it, the cieling was enchanted in the same way that the great hall was, and so moonlight streamed down on the room and made galaxies of the dust that blew in the air and seemed to swirl around the woman as she stepped in.

She pulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing long dark hair and a pale face. Soon she began to speak.

"Speak to me of the Hogwarts Four," she said boldly," those legendary witches and wizards who, with but magic and dreaming, forged for the world a caldron. Such a grand tool is a cauldron. In its depths one may scry or brew, know or create, at will. It can hold fire even hotter and grander than the most enduring hearth, or heart. Many a man has stared into one and seen a future worth striving for, for glory can be brewed, and love, and truth. Yes, the Hogwarts Four created for the world a cauldron in the shape of a castle, and to it, and to those born with gifts that could make the flowers bloom and the stars fall, they dedicated their lives.

Speak to me of the Hogwarts Four, those tired souls who wanted nothing more than rest for hearts heavy with the ashes of children killed by cowards. Those strong ones who mourned for those who'd lacked the chance to learn, and longed for a place to make them safe, speak to me of them.

Speak to me of four friends, who became four legends. Speak, old friends, of us.

Our castle lies around us in ruins; the victim of old enmity come to final fruition. Our treasures lie burned and wasted, that this battle may be called 'won' as a loyal son of Hogwarts ends the long poisoned Slytherin line.

If ever there was a time when these stones have wanted for our renewed presence, for the light of what was lost when conflict and cowardice came to us, it is now.

I, in life Rowena Ravenclaw, come to remember truths lost to legend, that the castle's true foundation may be repaired, and the stones given the fulfillment that we taught them to hope for. Our legacy shall again know life."

"Always were quite the wordsmith, Rowena, were you not ?" another woman answered as she rode the stairs down into the room, removing the black hood she'd worn. "I will speak to you of those four. They planted roots so deep in earth made fertile by the blood of those who lived and died here before they came. Nourished by all that is most needed by things that grow, they sprouted a tree that gave safety, nourishment, and shelter all the days that it stood. Believe, My Heart, that it shall stand again."

She reached up and brushed the red hair from her pleasantly rounded face before taking Rowena's hands and finishing, " I, In life Helga Hufflepuff, Come to renew ties which must be made twixt past and present, that the castle's true foundation may be repaired, and the stones not left in longing. Our legacy shall never again abandon life."

A bald man of average height stepped out of one the doors set into the room's wall and the pair dropped hands and stepped back from each other so that they could turn and face him. A forest green cloak that seemed suitable for traveling hung about his shoulders. He raised his head and looked them both in the eyes before beginning his speech.

"I will not speak last. Long have those who bore my name been forced to suffer, in part due to my legacy. What selflessness I display in refusing to have the last word, can only serve to cancel the selfishness which bade me take certain actions both proceeding and following my departure from here."

There was a moment when it seemed as though he might turn and walk back into the room and leave the two women once again but his grey eyes shined with determination, visible even in the moonlight and he continued ,"It pains me to see my once home brought so low. For all that I left it, I have loved this school. That love was as deep as blood and bone, and soul, so deep that it flowed down my line. Even now I still love this bloodstained heap of torn tapestries, ashes, and broken glass.

I loved the years I spent here, amidst my students. They were cunning and sly, and destined for all manners of greatness. I still mark their progress with pride, though it seems that in recent years our old hat has made its feelings about our parting known in some of its choices. I've noticed an abundance of lost boys wandering about in my dungeons. Even our school's loyal son, as you dubbed him, Rowena, was nearly selected for my house because he was adrift in the newness of our world, and had such a need to belong, to show himself to be worthy."

He looked at Helga, his eyes lingering oddly on hers, his hands fidgeting at his side until she reached up and brushed the hair from her eyes in what the other two recalled now had been a nervous tick of hers. Salazar broke eye contact finally, and addressed both women.

"I will speak to you of those four. They came with ambition, those naïve witches and wizards, all lost in their own ways. They hid their lostness, and thought it gone. They were fools. It was never far from them and in the end it returned, like a scorned lover damaging new joys to punish for past slights.

I, in life Salazar Slytherin, come to achieve the goals that brought us together all of those years ago, to create a light so bright that none would be lost in the darkness, and to protect those most like us, that the castle's true foundations may be repaired, and that those blasted rocks may again serve our purpose."

A scoff drew their eyes to a man who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. He was large and imposing in his deep scarlet cloak, the hood pulled back to show narrowed green eyes framed by thick red hair.

"Will the pair of you hear him speak?" he began angrily, " As though he has any right, after what he did! As though we should count ourselves honored!"

He rolled his eyes and continued sarcastically as he strode up to them stopping a few feet away from the women so that they stood at the midpoint between him and Slytherin.

"Salazar Slytherin will speak of us? Oh the rapture, the joy, and wonderment! What right do we have, we blood traitors and fools, what right to even stand in the presence of Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four? What goodness has bought this chance?"

"Godric, be a dear and do something about that bile streaming from your mouth, it is most unhelpful," Helga scolded him, " not to mention redundant."

"Indeed, the lady speaks truth," Rowena added, " three cannot reconcile four. Either you will speak of us and we shall work towards reconciliation or we can part for another thousand years or so and leave the school to heal slowly without our aid or crumble as it may. Perhaps once your towers have fallen and his dungeons have filled in you can stand on equal ground once more."

"Has death sucked the honey from thy breath at last, Rowena?" Godric replied with a touch of regret, " Alright then. I'll speak of those four fools. They were brave and they took what they knew, and what they hoped could be, and made more than a school; more than a friendship. When all of them got older and a little more selfish, and a little more blind, they stood to lose all that they had made. Stupid and stubborn they held onto riches that no one was ever meant to hold, and they broke under the effort and their differences. Two died alone and all died wanting, and lingered wanting still for what was never rightly theirs in the first place."

"Are you saying that we should abandon our attempt?" Salazar asked, stepping closer to the women between him and Godric. Gryffindor's eyes widened slightly even as he mirrored the step, so that they now stood at the four corners of a square, " Stop chasing what was never meant for us? I tell you as one who knows, there is no peace down that road."

"Nor down any road," Godric countered, " for I say not that we should give into fate, but that every moment of unity betwixt us is one snatched from the control of our stars. We must protect them with knowledge that without effort and courage, all shall fail.

I, in life Godric Gryffindor, come to renew our first courage and rebuild all that we strove for and lost; that the castle's true foundation may be repaired, and the stones stand in readiness with all the honor of the champions who shall rise to defend them. "

Above them in the headmaster's office, the burned sorting hat began to glow, a spark of life rekindled that matched another spark somewhere within the stone labyrinth of Hogwarts. Elsewhere in the castle the Ravenclaw ghost felt an odd surge of hope. A mother weeping in loss knew a moment's peace, as did a sister, and brothers. A woman contemplating borrowed memories let her worries stop for a time. A man with a lightning bolt scar found his nightmares soothed, his heart eased. Warriors became students again as sleep descended on the school.

As its founders prepared to begin, the castle itself, the stones and wards and enchantments, prepared her loyal daughters and sons for the work of rebuilding.

* * *

Hey guys, it's been a while, but I'm back and this time i'm posting a story that's already complete. The rest is coming over the next few days, and I look forward to hearing what you think of it. I may get back to work on my other Harry Potter fic soon, but this idea really grabbed a hold of me.


	2. Chapter 1

_Italics are in the past _- P_M

* * *

The four of them stood looking at each other for a moment before Helga spoke.

"Oh Salazar," she breathed, the words rushing from her like a sob. She reached pale hands up and touched his face, as she stepped towards him. Rowena reached up pressed Helga's hand onto his face even as she pressed her nose and mouth into the soft roundness of Helga's cheek. Helga turned, giving her a light kiss before turning and brushing her lips against Salazar's as he bent to offer one of his own to Rowena.

Godric stood a step apart from them, torn between joy at the sight of his lovers together again and pain as he found himself uncertain of his welcome. Then Helga came over and kissed him soundly, and he felt Rowena smile against his face, and he felt a hand too large to belong to either of them take his. Pulling back from them, he looked up and met Salazar's eyes.

"Shall we snatch a moment from the control of our stars?" Salazar asked, and the women shifted to allow him to come close. He pressed against both of their sides and wrapped his arms around them. Godric laughed before swooping down to claim his mouth in a kiss as fierce as the argument that had parted them.

"It wasn't right without you," Rowena whispered.

* * *

_It was early morning. Two women lay in bed, covered only by sheets. They faced away from each other on opposite sides and the space between them was emptier than the spaces between stars. Across the castle, a man sat in a tower. His feet dangled over the edge and his pain darkened eyes traced the beaten down path from the castle's main entrance to its gates. The three left behind had lain together the night before. There had been three in a bed made for four. There had been loss, blame, and anger in a bed made for warmth and love. Then there was shame, and none of them could look at the others because deep down they all blamed themselves most of all. I didn't…I wasn't… I never…. The thoughts fell into rhythm with the beating of their hearts._

* * *

"You could have come with me," Salazar replied, "Could have followed later."

"And lose my life's work in addition to my heart? Neither of you would see sense. Why trade a homebound fool for a traveling one? " she shot in return, pulling away, "I can't regret remaining here."

Salazar reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her from moving further away. His eyes narrowed. "Of course not. Did you wait a whole day before jumping into the arms of some other man?" he said, softly but edged with pain and anger.

" Your daughter is so lovely, he must have been a pretty thing. Likely a bit dim though, she certainly did not inherit her mother's wit; choosing to haunt our halls and scare first years for an age."

Rowena stared at him for a long moment before replying, "Never insult my daughter. I lived for her, and did much that was less honorable than that to spare her harm. She does not need your judgment." she pulled her arm through Salazar's fingers which were still less solid than they appeared. She shook her head as if to clear it, continuing, "I cannot do this tonight. This old broken wonder will have to wait until dawn."

"The castle can bear another night's wait," Godric grumbled, vaguely reassuring.

Rowena looked into his eyes and shook her head slowly before gesturing in a circle with her right hand, indicating the four of them, then pressing her hand to her chest, on the left side. Then she turned and walked to her door which opened before her at the whisper of "wit beyond measure" and closed behind her without a touch.

"…Is a witches safety," Rowena said when the door had closed. She'd spelled her door and those of her lovers to use sets of passwords to keep various combinations of lovers, acquaintances and intruders out. One phrase to open but only to the owner if the room was empty, and many answering phrases to allow or keep out company. That day, she'd used the one which gave her time alone.

She pressed her palm to the space beneath her belly and swore quietly under her breath. Closing her eyes she sunk to the floor with her back to the door.

In the bottom of her wardrobe lay a box of un-used rags, stained by use in months past when they'd received her monthly issue. They'd gone unused for the second month, and she was late for a third. She'd been sick just an hour before after eating a breakfast that hadn't tasted quite right. There was no denying the truth.

She had to tell them, but how could she? Salazar and Godric had been fighting more and more over the past weeks. Would the tensions grow? Would this only give them a new battle ground? What child could blossom under that stress? Helga would help to shield her child from it but what if the four of them parted? Where might Helga's loyalty take her?

Rowena's hand began to glow where it rested above the growing child . She let a single thought direct the shape of the magic that desperation had amassed in her.

The light flashed, and then… nothing.

Helga smiled, a small, warm, lovely thing, like bread, and spring, and skin, before sighing, "My brave Love, you've never changed. Not even now."

"Haven't I? Is there any point in this if none of us have changed?" Godric replied. " Salazar, we all had children. Why should you begrudge her that? Why hold her alone in contempt for sins we all committed?"

"She bore that bastard scarcely a year after I left," Salazar hissed, then he reigned in his temper and continued, "I know my numbers, my physiology, and most of all her. She did not love so easily, our Rowena, and she was so distant before I left, always off and claiming to be alone with her studies."

"You think that she strayed," Helga clarified.

"She would never! How dare you call her honor into question!" Godric scolded.

"Can you say how else she fell pregnant so soon after we parted?" he shot back. " The girl was born too late to be one of ours."

"Can you say how the stars burn? How young witches bloom from lines without magic like mandrakes from moor grass? Can you say how my heart can hold you all, and not burst with the weight of it? There is much that I cannot say and much that Rowena can answer if you will refrain from accusing her while she is resting." Helga answered.

"I need to understand this before I can trust in our union." Salazar said, with calm that masked desperation.

"Do you think that you're the only one with questions? With reservations?" Helga asked him before turning to Godric. "Do you think that you own the weariness here? Is all anger and bitterness yours? I love you both and her and everything that we had before and can have again, but do not mistake my freely given love for ignorance or naiveté . Never do that."

Her hands , strong and gentle, squeezed their shoulders before she released them and turned to walk to her door.

"A loyal heart" opened the door which, like Rowena's before it, closed behind her.

The two men stood in the room for a time before both looked to the curved stairs. Godric turned away, moving towards his own door. The rushing joy of their reunion was gone and in its place, the echoes of their unresolved conflicts seemed too loud to cross, too solid to allow them to touch again.

"I… I've missed you, Salazar."

The moonlight drifted through his hair and through his face too, a jarring reminder that age and death had come and gone like seasons, like love for the young.

"That is not enough," Salazar replied, wishing that it were, but smelling the smoke on the air, the death and fear that lingered.

"It is true, all the same," Godric whispered in response before telling his door, "Courage protects" and walking inside.

Salazar did not go to his room that night. He wandered up the spiral staircase and out into the corridor, past the gargoyle who bowed for him and down through the school. He floated, a phantom, above the rubble, the broken things laying scattered, the remains of death eaters, of their allies, forgotten in the heat of battle and the rush of victory that followed. He drifted silently but with purpose, moving towards the chamber where his sole heir lay dead.

They had placed the body on a table unceremoniously; an arm left dangling over the side, robes mussed left to rest as they might. Salazar forced Tom Riddle's hand to his sides and straightened his robes. He closed the still gaping eyes and, content that he'd done right by this distant descendent, allowed his mind to wander.

He touched his face, cool and serpentine, and pictured this strand of his line; their faces appearing in his mind. Where had they gone astray?

* * *

_Acantha, was his daughter; born to a woman called Tamsin who'd treated him well and aided his work. She hissed nonsense words to a wooden toy snake as she rolled and scooted around on the mat, set in the patch of sunlight from the window of his study. At his desk he worked to settle the last of her mother's affairs. The girl had her mother's hair, and it shown in the warm sun. Salazar felt a moments longing for that good and kind woman. Then Acantha seemed to raise up and float over to plop down on desk in front of him, staining her legs and diaper with ink from his parchment as she reached for him._

_He pulled a length of soft linen from the air and wrapped her in it as he pulled the girl to his chest and let her babble on, unsure whether it had been her magic or his that had propelled her. Occasionally he whispered down to her, stories of Hogwarts, of mermaids and the shine of sunlight on newly constructed wards. She smiled and practiced the sounds of the words. After some time, the child whispered, "papa" in English, and repeated it in parse tongue. She burrowed her face into his robes and made token efforts to escape the cocoon of linen before falling suddenly asleep._

_She was his talented and brilliant daughter. His heart felt sore as he thought of two other women, talented and brilliant, who would never lay eyes on little Acantha. She named for a nymph loved by the god, Apollo. Born to two who could at best be described as friends, her mother had felt that the love of a god of wisdom and beauty might make up for a lack in Acantha's day to day experience. She'd had little faith in his ability to open his heart to their second child, and with reason. It had taken him ages to develop any sort of connection to their first, all those years before._

_He'd spent the rest of the afternoon composing a letter to Acantha's older brother in his mind, providing a warm space for her nap, and wondering if his life would be devoid of goodness and kindness when she was grown._

_One day she would stand at the gates and look on Hogwarts for herself. Her brother at her side, she would, as had he, decide that the school was not ready to house an heir of Slytherin. When she did, it was not for lack of love._

_She loved the school on sight. She saw in the school everything that her father had spoken of. She saw the towers piercing the sky and felt the magic in the air. It called to her as though it knew her; she knew that it did, because her father had helped to make it, because there was life within those walls beyond that of its residents._

_She knew that the book inside bore her name, but she could not move to open the gate and stride in. She'd heard the sadness in his voice alongside the wonder. She was young, barely twelve, but she knew that there were things that her father hid from her. She could not walk in and see what had driven him out, could not rest easy where he might not be welcome, could not break his heart with innocent words revealing wounding truths about how the castle had changed. So she and her brother walked away, but she whispered the school's name to herself again and again, and vowed to keep it safe from afar._

* * *

He could see no fault his children. So where had they gone wrong, those heirs of his? A question for another time he supposed. For the moment, he simply drew the remnants of his power, the magic the lingered around Riddle's body, the gifts that had long been bound to Slytherin blood, and offered them up to the school itself,. Then he settled in to watch over his last heir for one more night, content that his line could bring no more harm to this place where he'd been happiest.

Floors above him in the headmasters' office, the spark that had kindled in the sorting hat grew and changed as it was granted a new task and prepared to receive more.

Shortly before dawn, Salazar made his way back to their common room. The sunrise would wake the castle and he'd no desire to make his presence known. Besides, the time had come to get his answers.


End file.
